


The Water Fountain

by Winterironsoldier



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: All of the trigger warnings, Autism, Bipolar Disorder, F/F, Group Therapy, Mentions of Cancer, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, basically a whole lot of mental disorders, help these children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-14 02:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16904070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterironsoldier/pseuds/Winterironsoldier
Summary: Group therapy.Two words, only a few syllables long, yet it invoked so much dread from her. Adora glanced through the rearview mirror only to catch her mother's intense gaze. Right. There was no talking herself out of this one.Ever since she was little, probably around seven-ish, she had been coined with the term “suicidal” and “depressed”, sure “anxiety” was thrown around a lot too but she didn't particularly define herself as an anxious person. Anxiety was for people who had actual problems and she did not fit the bill on that one, mister. All of her problems stemmed from one thing and one thing only: shitty genetics. Or so say the numerous doctors and therapists that she has seen lately.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If I missed any tags, let me know!

_She told me that she loved me by the water fountain_   
_She told me that she loved me and she didn't love him_   
_And that was really lovely 'cause it was innocent_   
_But now she's got a cup with something else in it_

 

* * *

 

 

Group therapy.

Two words, only a few syllables long, yet it invoked so much dread from her. Adora glanced through the rearview mirror only to catch her mother's intense gaze. Right. There was no talking herself out of this one.

Ever since she was little, probably around seven-ish, she had been coined with the term “suicidal” and “depressed”, sure “anxiety” was thrown around a lot too but she didn't particularly define herself as an anxious person. Anxiety was for people who had actual problems and she did not fit the bill on that one, mister. All of her problems stemmed from one thing and one thing only: shitty genetics. Or so say the numerous doctors and therapists that she has seen lately.

This group therapy was a supposedly last ditch effort before she was thrown in an actual mental hospital. That's how far her current mother's opinion of her fell. At least she wasn't threatening to send her back to be put in a new foster home.

Sheesh, the last two had been a real bummer.

“Adora, time to get out.” Her voice was clipped and a warning lie underneath of it.

Of course, there was a warning, why wouldn't there be? The last two times that Cleo had tried to take her here, she had gotten out of the car at a red light and ran until the police tracked her down.

Now, this was her last chance at staying in a somewhat good home. She really couldn't blow it this time.

“See ya, Cleo.” She dragged herself from the back seat and shut the door behind her.

It hadn't even been a second after her feet landed on pavement that Cleo’s car screeched away like she was nothing more than a package to be dropped off. Figures.

The doors to the wide church were open and the red carpet and white walls would almost feel comforting if it weren't for the stacks of pamphlets about suicide, gays, and salvation. Gods, it would be a miracle if she didn't burn to death just from stepping inside.

After all, she was the unholy trinity of things Christians hated.  One, she's gay, and proudly. Two, she desperately wants to kill herself, definitely a huge no-no in the sin book. And three, she wasn't saved and didn't ever plan to be. Fuck you very muchly.

She walked inside aimlessly at first, surprisingly she didn't catch on fire and she found herself going down a long hall. Definitely didn't look anything like any of the churches she had ever been to before. Were all Christian denominational churches this big?

Laughter and shouts were coming from one of the rooms this way and she paused outside the door frame.

Five girls and two guys lounged around the room. One of the girls had pink hair and a bossy attitude if the way she had her hands on her hips and a permanent scowl on her face was anything to go by. This girl was in the middle of the room and was yelling at a boy with a light buzz cut and a kindly face. He seemed nice enough and he tried to calm pinky down with assurances. They were probably a couple.

To the left side of the room, a girl with messy brunette hair and bi-colored eyes sat scowling next to a woman with silvery hair and medical taped arms. Her arms didn't seem to be in any bad condition but what did she know?

To the right, a girl with long blue hair was fending off advances from a guy with a carefree attitude. He also had a box of matches in plain view in his pocket. Weird.

A ditzy-looking blonde joined those two with a plant held between her hands. She was talking quite animatedly to them and only the blue-haired one seemed mildly interested.

So this was the group of people that she was going to have to try getting along with. Yikes.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?”

 

* * *

 

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?” Catra called lazily, pushing Scorpia away from her body and she sank into one of the many bean bag chairs set up in a circle in the room. Time was running short today and they definitely didn't have much time before Beatrix, or as they liked to call her, Shadow Weaver showed up to make sure that they were performing their group therapy. The last thing they needed was another grumpy session with that she-devil around and breathing down their necks.

The jock-looking blonde still loitered outside of the room for a moment before finally trailing her way inside with doubt clouding her face. Newbies always did look like that at first, but the benefits of the therapy always won over.

“Do you got a name, Tweety Bird?” She drawled lazily as the rest of the group settled into their bags, leaving the pink one open for the newbie. Which, is pretty unfortunate, the pink one was the one nearest to where Weaver usually lurked.

“Tweety-” Rage filled those sweet blue eyes for a moment before dissipating as she took the pink beanbag. “Adora. Just Adora.”

“Well, _Just Adora_ , welcome to the group or whatever. I'm Catra, four-time survivor of suicide and so far current survivor of leukemia. Yay me.” She mock-cheered.

Recognition flashed over Adora's face for all of five seconds before fading away. So, the blonde barbie knew about leukemia, big deal. It's not like it would _kill her_ to know. Wow, that was pretty funny. She was definitely going to hell whenever she finally croaked.

“Are you supposed to share your shit so early on? Am I expected-”

“Oh, come on, Adora, you don't really expect us to start forcing you to tell your issues right off the bat, do you?” Glimmer asked in exasperation.

It was honestly kind of cute how out of the loop she was, but she would find her footing soon enough. She tuned out during the other introductions and instead watched the clock on the wall.

2:55pm.

That left five minutes until Weaver got here. Five minutes until it was her turn to spill her guts all over again. After all, it was like Weaver had some uncanny ability to know when you slipped up.

 

* * *

 

Adora could barely keep track of all the names she was given but she nodded along dutifully to each introduction. So far, ditzy-blonde's name was Perfuma, the flirty guy was Jeoff Blithe (he liked to go by Sea Hawk though), the blue-haired girl was Marissa (it kind of sounded like she said Mermista at first), and pinky was Glimmer and pinky’s boyfriend was Bow. Cool.

The door fell shut a moment later and she looked back to see the program runner, Beatrix, standing in a spot behind her with a smile.

“You must be Adorabelle Gray, it’s nice to finally see you here. Your mother-” Adora winced at that word and looked away. “Told me about how you kept trying to avoid us. Do you want to talk about-”

“Hey, it's my turn today.” Catra suddenly interrupted and Adora was glad for it. It gave her the opportunity to have that intense gaze off of her and onto Catra.

“Ah, yes, _Catrina_ , I expected that we would be hearing from you today. Did you slip-up?” Beatrix asked, her voice was low and it didn't really feel like she cared one iota about Catra to her.

Catra's face morphed from disgust to anger and back to neutral in mere moments. Someone has perfected their mask apparently.

“As you guys know, I had treatment last week and it was my second time doing… chemo.” As she spoke, her fingers twirled through her hair and Adora’s heart dropped in her chest as a small clump came loose. Gods. “Yeah, I can see the looks on your faces and that was my reaction too. See, no one told me that in order to save my fucking life, I had to lose so much. This isn't even all the hair that's fallen out so far. My eyebrows are literally drawn on and my eyelashes-”

“I think you look beautiful,” Adora spoke up suddenly. “And I think you'll look beautiful even afterward.”

After what? After all her hair inevitability fell out? Well, yeah. Catra definitely had a natural beauty going on.

Catra's eyes seared into her own for a moment and Beatrix cleared her throat, “We don't interrupt each other, Adorabelle. Please stay quiet.”

She closed her mouth and forced down the flush that threatened to rise, but Catra seemed amused by it.

“Well, I definitely thought the opposite of that, Adora. I felt like it was the end of the world and I wanted it to be. So, I…” She flipped her arms over and Adora finally took in the fact that Catra had her own medical bandages. Holy fuck. “Tried to end it again.”

“Do you feel like that was the right decision?” Beatrix finally asked in a bored tone.

Catra winced, “Well, no, but at the time-”

“Yes, your hair is falling out but that doesn't mean you should kill yourself. Think about your parents-”

“Hey,” Adora cut in, glaring at Beatrix. “You can't just bring up her parents like that. She's losing her hair, that's like one of the worst things that can happen to someone's self-confidence.”

“Yeah, I don't know what I would do if I were in your position, Kitty. But you are being so very brave.” Scorpia scooped Catra up and hugged her, despite how much she started fighting it.

“Catra, you'll be so pretty even without your hair!”

“Maybe we can get you fitted for a wig?”

“Oh, maybe we should shave our heads in solidarity?”

“I am so not shaving my head, but it'll be okay, Catra.”

As the group talked over one another, Adora started to relax.

Maybe group therapy wouldn't be so bad?


	2. Chapter 2

Classes and days pass by in a blur for her, the monotony of it all possessed her and her thoughts were unleashed. Would the world be better off without her? It sure felt like it and Adora wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take. An invisible knife had struck her between her ribs and pinned her cacophony of emotions inside, they were bursting at the seams by now.

Oh, how they wanted out.

She could not let them though, because if she let them, then that would mean facing the things that she had been burying deep for years. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, loser!”

Adora kept her head up high and quickened her pace. They were calling out for her but if she could just manage to get to Bio then-

“Hey, I'm talking to you!”

Just walk faster. Faster. Faster.

A loud thud accompanied by a scorching pain hit the back of her head and she swiveled around angrily. She had tried to be nice and the girls weren't going to take a hint. Her head felt wet and sticky when she touched it and adrenaline burst through her.

Fine, if they wanted to be like that, then she could happily oblige them.

 

* * *

 

“Two broken noses, a black eye, and a fractured wrist, Miss Gray. What do you have to say for yourself?!” The dean sat behind her desk, eyes narrowed in poorly concealed anger and… slight worry.

Everyone “worried” about her, few took action to make sure she was okay. No biggie.

“Well, my knuckles hurt too. Who knew that such paper girls could have a rock hard skull?” She deflected. This was what she was good at and if she paid her cards right, she wouldn't be threatened with juvenile time.

 

* * *

 

“Suspension?!” Her foster mother yelled, making her ears ring from the force of it and if it made her heart beating over time, no one needed to know about it. Her triggers were her own and she dealt with it all just fine. 

 

* * *

 

Loud voices came from down the stairs after she closed herself in the bathroom and Adora made herself comfortable in the bathtub, slipping lower and lower into the near overwhelmingly hot water. She could nearly feel it burning away her dead skin and replacing it with new cells. With all the stress of the past week, she truly was itching for something to numb it all but painkillers were all that she could find. All other sharp objects had been put up sadly enough.

The pills sat to her side and she took the bottle, emptying ten out and took her time with them. It was almost like a game to her; she popped each one in one at a time and pretended that she could feel the stress leaving her body in a single wave. Of course, this wasn't really happening; the stress was still there and growing.

They were in her system now at least and she closed her eyes as she listened to her music.

 

* * *

 

The hours passed by in odd spastic moments, the heaviness of her body had lulled her into a sleep at first, but then she was being shaken and forced from the bathtub. Her skin felt slimy and pruney. That's the last clear and concise thought before she woke in a hospital room.

 

* * *

 

She blinked awake slowly at first, not truly willing herself to consciousness. Not yet anyway.

Her head was sluggish and her thoughts slow, mixed with the pain in her stomach, she could only guess at what happened, yet again. Failure. Another fucking failure.

“Adora?” A voice came from beside her and she winced her headache spiking tenfold from the new noise.

“What?” She rasped out, glancing to her side and catching sight of her foster mother.

The small woman seemed afraid and by the paleness of her face, scared. Why would she be scared or afraid? She was just a troublemaker to her, she would be so much better off without her.

Arms wrapped around her and she wheezed into the sudden hug, “I'm- okay.” It was an odd feeling having to reassure her but warmth bloomed in her chest from the affection.

“Adora, I was so worried. The doctors weren't sure if we got you here in time- they say you damaged your liver too.” Her voice was quick and watery to her ears and she swallowed hard. Liver damage?

“Doesn't- doesn't the liver like… regenerate anyways? I'm okay, right?” It hurt to talk but the thought of not knowing about her own body hurt more.

“It depends on the next few days, your liver could fail.” She pulled away and a cold weight dropped in her chest.

Adora had wanted to die, hadn't she? If so, then why was the thought of liver failure so scary to her?      

“Where's the doctor?” She asked, suddenly unsure of everything.

“He's out for now, but he’ll return after his rounds. I'll go get a nurse, they were wanting to talk to you after you woke up anyways.”

A kiss was pressed to her forehead but she could barely feel the love behind it.

Liver failure... 


End file.
